A Promise Half Kept
by GhostoftheMotif
Summary: Their first kiss was on a battlefield, and with it came a promise.


**Author's Note:** Here's my Saturday fic post! :D I decided I'm just going to go in alphabetical order from my fic directory on lj because I was having issues deciding on what order to upload them. Anyway, I'm off to stare at the tv until Doctor Who starts. I hope you guys enjoy this!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Italy made it bearable. Battle and treason weighed heavily on Germany's mind, but then Italy would smile, and for a moment he could pretend that they were human and merely bystanders in the war. For a moment he could pretend that their lives didn't hinge on the bloodshed, that they'd have a hand in their futures no matter the outcome. Italy would smile, and Germany would pretend they were untouchable.

Then something slammed into the ground next to them, and the air was hot. Dirt and fingertips of red and orange clawed towards them, and the fear in Italy's face mirrored the fear he kept carefully chained and barred inside his chest.

Beneath the cover of the sudden smoke, Germany grabbed Italy's arm and pulled him backwards, forcing him to run. There was a dull roar in his ears, penetrated by the deceptive hiss of the bullets that passed him on either side. Pillars of soil exploded upwards into the sky before falling, creating a screen that was nearly impossible to see through and equally difficult to navigate.

He could hear their soldiers yelling, scrambling to overcome their surprise and establish their defenses. Germany had to reach them, had to get himself in a position to command. From the corner of his eye he saw an enemy tank swing its sights towards them. His grip on Italy's arm tightened as he propelled them sideways, out of the line of fire. The shell struck the earth in front of them, landing amongst a group of three Italians. A spray of dirt and gore rained down on them, but Germany didn't falter. He had to reach to reach his men, and he had to get Italy to safety.

Then the shots were moving in the other direction, biting into their pursuers. Through the smoke, Germany could see a line of their comrades in the hastily constructed foxholes. He slid into the nearest one, pulling Italy down after him. In one fluid motion, he'd turned around, gun in his hands, and fired back the way they'd come. Beside him, Italy staggered upright, struggling to do the same.

Germany shouted for a radio over the noise, and one of the soldiers tossed it to him. He took a breath to ensure his voice would be composed before opening a channel. The orders he gave were quick, succinct, a comforting stability amongst the chaos surrounding them. His men would know that someone, somewhere, had kept their head and was thinking clearly.

It was seven minutes before German reinforcements arrived, and Germany prepared to launch himself among them, to rush forward and fight. The three soldiers alongside them lurched to their feet and pulled themselves up and over the edge. He gripped Italy's shoulder, looking him in the face. "Italy, I'm going. Take your soldiers and guard the flank, understand?"

"I understand, but you can't go!" Italy's voice was desperate and barely audible over the sounds of combat. "We're really outnumbered! You can't…"

"I have to," Germany said firmly. He tore away, about to heave himself over the rim of the hollow.

"Germany!" Italy cried, gripping his arm with both hands and pulling him back.

He spun around, ready to yell angrily and demand to be let go.

Italy kissed him.

Germany's eyes widened in mild shock and then shut in the span of a breath. Italy's hands fisted in his sleeves as Germany's arms cautiously encircled the smaller nation's waist. He was pressed backwards into the wall of dirt behind them, the other nation flush against his chest. There was ash and blood and dirt on their lips and skin, but neither cared. This made sense no matter the outer world's turmoil.

The kiss wasn't possessive as Prussia's had been, and it didn't taste of duty like Austria's. The touch of Italy's lips against his own was frantic, pleading for him not to join the fray. The fear he poured into the contact wasn't for himself. It was for Germany. There was no lust in it; there'd be time for that later. This was _worry_, concern, anxiety_._ Germany kissed him back, calm and strong, trying to communicate that he was going to be alright. Italy made a small noise that was lost in the gunfire.

He turned his head to the side and broke away, knowing there wasn't time. His hands rose to cup Italy's face. There were men rushing past them on either side of the foxhole now, and the sound of enemy tanks was getting closer.

"Germany… You can't get hurt. You _can't,_" Italy begged, covering Germany's hands with his own.

"I won't," Germany promised, his tone leaving no space for doubt. "And neither will you. I'll be back for you. I swear it."

Italy searched his eyes. "A promise made with a first kiss is _really _important," he said firmly. "It can't just be for right now. You have to promise to _always _come back and to _never _get hurt."

Germany rested their foreheads together. "I can't promise the second half for forever, but I can for right now. And the first half…" He looked into Italy's eyes. "I _will_ always come back."

After a moment, Italy nodded weakly and his hands fell to his sides. He still looked afraid, but he knew he couldn't hold Germany back from what he _needed_ to do.

Germany pressed a last kiss to the other nation's lips, turned, and vaulted over the edge.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"You lied!"

Germany looked up from where he was seated on the table, a nurse bandaging the long gash in his side. Italy had just pushed through the flap of the tent and was looking at him accusatorily. Germany flushed. "It… couldn't be helped. It's just a light wound. It doesn't hurt." Unfortunately the nurse chose that time to pull the bandages tighter, and he grimaced.

"Yes it _does_. You just made a face." Italy strode forward, almost managing to look menacing. The effect was ruined when he flashed an amiable smile at the nurse and asked if he could finish.

The nurse looked to Germany for confirmation and left the tent when he gave it.

All that remained to be done was to pin the bandages in place, which Italy did quickly and gently. He spoke as his hands moved.

"I was really worried! You didn't come back for a long time. I was so worried, and there was nothing to distract me! The food out here is _terrible._ Ve, didn't you say we'd be going back home soon? I think we should. We need a break. Especially since you got hurt! I thought you said you'd keep that part of the promise for right now."

"Sor—" Germany tried to interject, but Italy didn't pause.

"Oh, have you slept yet? I'm really tired, but I couldn't sleep very well because you were gone. We can still share a tent right? I like it when we share a tent. And you always wake me up on time! I forget things like that. You're so responsible, Germany. Did you know your hair was messed up?" Germany's hand went to his head. "It's okay though. You still look nice. How did you get hurt? Who did it? Did you get them? I bet you did. You're really good at this stuff. I'm not very good at it… But I'm going to try very hard because Germany asked me to! There. All done!"

Germany gingerly slid off the table, wincing slightly as he did so. Italy latched onto his arm almost immediately, and he was thankful that he had such good balance and pain tolerance. Otherwise, he might have toppled over and taken the smaller nation down with him. "Um…" He had no idea which one of Italy's statements to reply to first.

"Oh! Wait a second, I forgot!" Italy stood up on tiptoe and placed a quick, chaste kiss on Germany's lips. He hummed as he did it. "That was a thank you for coming back. It wasn't a very good thank you because you only kept half your promise. I'll give you a better one later, okay? A _much_ better one, Germany. We might have to wait for that wound to get better though." With the last sentence hanging in the air, he took his hand and pulled him outside into early-evening air.

Germany swallowed and could feel heat rising in his face. What did a wound in his side have to do with a thank you kiss…? Then Italy smiled, and he decided he didn't mind the answer.


End file.
